


Sub (compare to chapter 8 in full version "Kink")

by I_am_lampy



Series: The "It's All Fine" Collected Works Deluxe Edition [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Canon Divergence - The Reichenbach Fall, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Post-Episode: s02e03 The Reichenbach Fall, Sub John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 12:33:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11290824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_am_lampy/pseuds/I_am_lampy
Summary: "What if you were my sub and I told you not to moveorI wouldn't let you come, andthenI started licking your nipples or nipping at the insides of your thighs?""I'd say that was very unfair.""And, as your Dom, I'd say, you can disobey, but you'll be having a lonely wank in the bathroom. Punishment.""Oh," John breathes, the word elongating as it leaves his mouth."I think you're starting to understand."





	Sub (compare to chapter 8 in full version "Kink")

**Author's Note:**

> In this story, Gerald works as a professional Dom and uses D/s dynamics and punishment to help his clients change unwanted behavior. 
> 
> In his relationship with John, though, they use D/s dynamics as a kink rather than punishment.
> 
> I gave Gerald the flexibility of not only enjoying vanilla sex, but also being a switch, because he acts as the catalyst for so much of John's exploration of his sexuality and his feelings, which, in turn, will give John strength to be vulnerable and open when Sherlock finally returns. (I won't say anything else because spoilers,  
> sweetie)  
>  _Disclaimer: This story is not meant to represent how D/s relationships work outside of fiction. You're always free to email me at archiveofMYown@gmail.com and I'll answer any questions you have._

~*~

**May 2012**

Gerald and John are sitting on the sofa in Gerald's sitting room watching the telly. Gerald has curled himself up into an approximation of a very large cat and is using John's lap in which to do it. Gerald has no shirt on and John's fingers are sliding absentmindedly through the dark hair on his chest before they find the hair on his head again. John doesn't realize he's doing it until Gerald brings up the hair kink question again.

"I suppose, yes. I love hair. I like touching it. Don't you?"

"Not as such, no."

"Then what's your kink?"

"Being a sub. Or Dom. Because I Dom in my professional life, I like to sub, but I'm a switch."

"What's a switch?"

"It means I'm comfortable in either role. At heart, Dominance and submission is about a transference of power and I'm equally comfortable having it or giving it up."

"I quite prefer being equals."

"Mm," Gerald says, curling tighter.

"You know, you can't actually fit your entire body into my lap."

"You can't stop me from trying," Gerald says and John laughs.

"Maybe if you showed me," John says.

"Showed you what?" Gerald murmurs, his fingertips sneaking towards John's fly.

"How to be a sub."

Gerald freezes and then lifts his head and stares at John.

"You would do that?"

"Um, yeah. I mean, we get to talk about it first, though, right?" John asks. Gerald is silent, staring at John with narrowed eyes so John adds, "Your eyes are kind of scary right now. Say something."

"Sorry, I'm just doing a mental inventory of all the things I have in stock."

"What stock?"

"Upstairs," Gerald says, sitting upright and ignoring John's fly, which makes John wish he'd kept his mouth shut.

"Upstairs?"

"In the therapy room."

"Oh, no, you are not taking me into the scary room."

"Why do you call it that?" Gerald says, laughing despite his irritation. "They don't go in there to be _scared_ into behaving. The words safe, sane, and consensual come to mind."

"I'm not one of your clients. I don't need to have the idiocy beat out of me."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Gerald says, his eyes flashing with anger. "Maybe you just need to have your _narrow_ _mind_ beat out of you."

Gerald stands up, the movement jerky, his muscles tight, and goes the long way around it to the sitting room door so he doesn't have to ask John to move his legs off the coffee table.

John sits there, blinking. He's totally missed something and he has no idea what it is. He goes back over the conversation in his head. _Ah_ , he thinks.

He finds Gerald in his office, leaning up against his filing cabinet and staring at his hands. John knocks on the doorframe.

When Gerald looks up, John is stunned by what he sees on Gerald's face. Gerald looks devastated, near tears.

“I'm sorry, Gerald. I'm a bastard,” John says. He crosses the short distance between them and tries to put his arms around Gerald but his attempt is rebuffed. Instead Gerald sidesteps him and walks over to his desk. He presses all five fingertips against the top of his desk. He keeps his eyes on them and his figure is so rigid that John doesn't dare approach.

"What I do isn't a joke, John."

"I know that—"

"Do you? What I do is valid. I help people—"

"I never said you didn't, Gerald."

"No, you just think it's a kink or—"

"Of course, I bloody think it's a kink! It _is_ a kink! They come to you to be spanked or whipped or—"

"Is that what you think? That they're up there getting off on it and I'm only fooling myself that I'm actually helping them?"

John says nothing, but he doesn't have to. He winces when he sees the shutter go down on Gerald's face. John wants to apologize, wants to walk over to Gerald and say or do whatever it takes to stop Gerald looking so guarded, so carefully _neutral_. But he knows better.

"I think you should go home," Gerald says.

John doesn't even realize he was holding his breath until it all comes out of him in a rush and he gives in to his urge to comfort Gerald, but Gerald holds up his hand, refusing to meet John's gaze.

"Tell me, then," John says, keeping well back. "Explain it to me so I understand."

For a moment, Gerald's face crumples, but he turns his face back to the desk, where his hand is resting. He smooths it over the desk, like he's sweeping up invisible crumbs and then his hand stills. He looks up.

"My clients set goals and keep track of them in a journal. If they've failed to reach their goal when they come in for a session, then I punish them. The punishment is negotiated between us for maximum effectiveness. What I do is behavior modification pure and simple."

Gerald stops, but still refuses to look at John. He just keeps swirling the tips of his fingers back and forth over the desk's surface and John watches, wishing he was the desk.

"And, just so you know, since it seems to be the sticking point with you—only about a third of my clients use physical punishment because, yeah, the other two thirds get off on it. Like I said, behavior modification."

"How do you know what works?"

"I have a list. Wanna see it?"

"Okay," John says carefully.

John can't tell if Gerald's good-naturedness is back or if he just _sounds_ that way because really, he wants to smack John in the face. Gerald seems to be moving more loosely so he's less guarded than before. He plucks a folder off his desk and hands it to John who opens it. 

> **Lists of Accepted Punishments**
> 
> *According to contract, I will not use any implements brought from your home. You must pick from this list!
> 
> **see attached sheet for list of restraints
> 
> Impact punishment (with or without restraints)
> 
> Flogging: leather, with or without leather beads or wood beads
> 
> Paddling: leather, wood, acrylic
> 
> Caning: leather and acrylic (riding crop also available)
> 
> Physical discomfort (5 to 30 minutes)
> 
> *I do NOT use heat or burning for punishment!
> 
> Cold discomfort (example: 20 min cold shower)
> 
> Tactile discomfort (example: kneeling in dried peas)
> 
> Aural discomfort (example: listening to annoying sound for twenty minutes or loud sound for five)
> 
> Stress discomfort—either bound or unbound (ex. holding something heavy on outstretched hand for twenty minutes)
> 
> Humiliation: Determined on a case by case basis only if other methods are unsuccessful.
> 
> *REMEMBER: Be honest in your journal! Behavior modification doesn’t work if you lie about achieving your goals. I get paid either way. 

John lowers the paper into the folder and looks at Gerald, who's watching him with an uncertain look on his face.

"Why dried peas?" John asks, his forehead furrowed.

Gerald's face clears, the sun comes out, and then he doubles over in laughter. John chuckles a little bit, because he can't help himself—when Gerald laughs, he makes John want to laugh, too. He repeats his question.

"I mean I get most of them, but why dried peas?"

"I can take you upstairs and show you if you'd like," Gerald says, still laughing.

"No, I'm just—so, they really...they _don't_ like it," John says, understanding dawning.

"You were in the army, so I thought you understood Dom/sub dynamics. I mean, that's all the bloody army is—one person giving the orders and another person either following the orders or _not_ following the orders and getting punished."

"Yeah, I guess...I just—this brings up another question. You said you liked being a sub. Does this mean you want to be punished for things?"

"First of all, I only do Dom/sub during sex. No, I don't like being punished. What I _like_ is not having to _think_. I just do what my Dom says. All the worry and responsibility is on someone else's shoulders."

"But, then it's not _punishment_ , is it? I mean, if you're getting off?"

He doesn't know when Gerald moved closer to him even though he's staring right at him, and then Gerald is right in front of him. He smiles gently, which is why John doesn't fight back when Gerald puts one hand behind his neck and the other on his arm and spins him around and presses him roughly against the filing cabinet behind them. John grunts at the impact.

"What if you were my sub and I told you not to move _or_ I wouldn't let you come, and _then_ I started licking your nipples or nipping at the insides of your thighs?"

"I'd say that was very unfair."

"And, as your Dom, I'd say, you can disobey, but you'll be having a lonely wank in the bathroom. Punishment."

"Oh," John breathes, the word elongating as it leaves his mouth.

"I think you're starting to understand."

Gerald presses his body against John's, but other than that, he's done nothing at all arousing—they're not kissing, he's not grinding his pelvis into John's backside, he's not whispering filthy things in John's ear. Yet, John is aroused.

"Do you want to play, John?" Gerald asks.

"I don't get off on spanking or anything like that," John mutters, but his dick is saying _god, yes, please, whatever you think you want to do to me is what I want you to do to me, too._

"Give me ten minutes in the therapy room and let's see if I can't change your mind."

~*~

The therapy room looks nothing like he'd expected. John stops right inside the door and gapes openly. There's no metal cages clanking on chains hung from the ceiling. The paddles, canes, riding crops and floggers are discreetly tucked away in a closet, which is well lit and has professionally constructed hooks for holding them. There's not a bed in the middle of the room draped in crimson silk. In fact, the room looks a lot like a combination of gymnasium and classroom.

On one wall, there's a waist-high padded bench. There are metal rings bolted into the floor in front of it. It looks like the parallel bars gymnasts use, but there's two rings on the top instead of one. On one wall is a black metal wheel; it looks kind of like a poorly made mandala. There are metal rings bolted all over that one at different heights and different widths. It's clear it's used to restrain someone while whipping (caning, paddling, flogging) them.

"What's the mirror for?"

The full-length mirror on the wall to the left is set in an ornate frame. It's the type of mirror found in the boudoir of a wealthy woman and it's the only thing in there that doesn't look entirely utilitarian.

“Humiliation punishments.”

"And that sandbox thing over there?"

"Ah," Gerald says and nudges John aside. He turns around and gives John a wink. "You asked about the dried peas? Why don't you have a go. Let's see how long you can kneel without it starting to hurt."

Gerald gestures at the sandbox— _peabox_? God, that makes it sound like something cats go in. But John's game so he goes to the box, steps over the edge and sees that it's filled with dried green lentils. He gets down on his knees and immediately mumbles at the discomfort. He looks up at Gerald, who's looking down at him with undisguised lust and is also holding a stopwatch.

"Hey, I didn't agree to be your sub," John points out. "And this is really uncomfortable."

"That's the point, John. Behav—"

"Yeah, behavior modification. Got it. Thanks. Are you really going to time me?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Fine. So, if I agree to be your sub, are you gonna, you know, spank me?"

"I said give me ten minutes. Kneeling in the bean bin isn't going to count towards those ten minutes, just so you know."

"The _bean bin_?" John asks. Then, he can't help himself, he starts giggling. Gerald glares at him, but it's a fairly good-natured glare, as far as glares go. "I'm sorry, darling, it's just—I get it, I do. But you can allow me a laugh now and again? It's effective punishment. I'm getting very uncomfortable."

"Are you getting out, then?"

"How long have I been doing it?"

"Two minutes."

"No sodding way! Show it to me!"

Gerald turns the stopwatch around and the digital readout says 02:21.

"How long do you make them do it?"

"Twenty minutes usually.”

“Jesus!”

“Unlike you, they don't have denim to protect their knees. They wear a shift, kind of like a hospital gown,” Gerald says. When John opens his mouth, Gerald rushes to say, “Yes, they wear their pants—I knew you would ask that question first. Jesus, John. All you think about is sex."

He doesn't sound too upset about it.

"Well...yeah. Look at you! How can I not when you're always walking around in only your boxers and your hair all crazy, looking like you just got tumbled around a bed. Makes me want to tumble you around a bed."

"Mm," Gerald says, unimpressed. "Three minutes."

" _Ugh_. I give up," John says and pushes to his feet, brushing peas off his jeans.

"Wimp," Gerald says.

"Hey, I didn't come here to be punished."

Gerald sidles close and presses himself up against John.

"I know exactly what you came here for and I ask you again—do you want to play? We're not going to be doing anything extreme and we're certainly not doing it in here. I have things for my personal use. If you say stop, I'll stop and ask you to tell me red, yellow, or green, like we discussed.

"But, just so you know, John. If you say _yes_ right now, I'll be your Dom for the rest of the night and there's no guarantee there'll be an orgasm for you at the end of it."

"You make it sound so ominous," John says, leaning close to tease a kiss from Gerald, who doesn't take the bait. "Fine. What do you mean by _the rest of the night_ and _no orgasm_. Do you mean for as long as it's dark outside, or—"

"Until midnight and you only come if you obey. Do you want to play?"

"Yes."

John doesn't even hesitate and Gerald's face breaks out into a grin to rival toothpaste ads everywhere. John reaches out for him and Gerald frowns and holds his hands up.

"No. You do nothing unless I tell you. Go to my room, take your clothes off, sit on the edge of the bed and wait for me, eyes on the floor."

"Please don't make me call you _master_ or _sir_ ," John groans.

"Don't be silly," Gerald says with a little smirk. "It doesn't matter what you call me—they'll all sound the same when you're begging. Now hurry up!"

Gerald smacks him on the arse to get him going.

"One question, though. Why do I have to wait for you?"

"Because, John. I _told_ you to. That's all you need to know."

"I don't—"

"Ah ah! You agreed, John. Do you want to stop? We can stop if you tell me to."

"But then I'll have to have a lonely wank in the bathroom," John intones.

"That's right," Gerald says, and his very smugness is fueling John's arousal.

John says nothing. He turns, walks out of the room and goes to the bedroom to wait.

~*~

Gerald makes him wait fifteen minutes and by the time he comes in, John has moved from sitting on the bed to lounging half on and half off it. When he hears the door open, he snaps back to sitting like Gerald told him to and berates himself for how easily he slips into the role of submissive. He's not _afraid_ of Gerald, and he can go one night without an orgasm _or_ a wank (lonely or not). And yet...here is, sitting on the edge of the bed, naked, his eyes lowered.

The urge to look at Gerald and see what he's brought into the bedroom with him is overwhelming, but this isn't just about getting off, he realizes. Gerald knows something about John, that same thing that Sherlock knew, right off—John wants to have his boundaries pushed; he wants to test his limits and then go just that bit past them.

Besides, this feels like a competition. If he fails, Gerald wins. If he doesn't fail, well...they both win. Orgasms all 'round!

"John, please get down on your knees." Gerald's voice is calm and polite, not demanding.

John slides to his knees next to the bed, keeping his head tilted down so he's not tempted to peek. Gerald comes to stand next to him and John can feel the dip in the bed as Gerald sits down. Then Gerald drops what he's carrying on the floor, startling John, who flinches away. Gerald's fingers are immediately in his hair, petting him, soothing him, but John's staring at what Gerald dropped. There's three things and they're all leather—one is clearly the flogger. It's got a handle wrapped with a braided design. It looks like the head of a mop, except with a handle. Then there's what John guesses is a paddle, but it's leather, not wood. The handle is a lot like the flogger and, as John looks closer, he realizes they all have the same braided pattern on their handles. _A matching set_ , John thinks and almost giggles. The other thing is leather, too, but long and thin. It must be a cane.

"You're curious, John," Gerald says, still brushing his fingers through John's hair. His voice has taken on a deeper, hypnotic quality. "You want to know what I'm going to do with them. Would you like me to tell you?"

"Yes," John says and automatically lifts his head to look at Gerald the way he would in any other conversation, but Gerald's fingers move from trailing gently through John's hair to gripping the back of his neck and keeping his head down.

"Eyes down, John, or I'll have to blindfold you. You don't want me to do that, do you?"

The way he speaks is gentle, but firm and yet he may as well have been stroking John's dick, which is rock hard and starting to leak. _Does_ he want to be blindfolded? No, he doesn't. He keeps his eyes down.

"Very good, John," Gerald says and goes back to petting John's head.

Gerald gets up and John sits back on his heels. John can't see above Gerald's shins unless he raises his head and he's not going to raise his head because he, John Watson, is in control.

"Lie face down on the bed. Move towards the other side until just the tips of your toes reach the floor. Now, turn your face to the foot of the bed," Gerald says, his voice a little more clipped than it was. "Stretch your arms out towards the other side of the bed as far as you can. Perfect, John.”

Gerald walks around to the other side of the bed. John can hear Gerald pulling something heavy out from under the bed. A box is opened and John hears the thud of something small, but heavy, and the clink of a chain—much heavier than a chain you'd wear around your neck, but still very fine. It makes a tinkling noise. Then a cuff is fastened around John's left wrist, there’s a tug, and the delicate clink of the chain—John can't see, only feel—and then another cuff around his right wrist, the sound of the chain, the tug of it going through a ring on the cuff and then his wrists are pulled down towards the floor and attached to something.

John is now stretched out on the bed. He tests the cuffs to find very little give. He can't push himself up using his arms, and on the other side, his feet are barely touching the floor, which means he can't push himself up by his feet. He's being offered up with no easy way to get loose. He struggles for a bit just to test his restraints and then relaxes into the bed. There's nothing painful about the position he's in, though his body will eventually start complaining if he's not allowed to move. John learned the fine art of hurrying up to wait in the army so he closes his eyes, relaxes his shoulders and his hips, takes a deep breath, lets it out. And waits.

"I'm going to use the cane on you first. I'll only stripe your arse and then I'll stop. When I do, I want you to say red, yellow, or green like we discussed, remember?"

"Yes," John says, his voice partially muffled by the duvet.

Gerald doesn't warn him, but John hears the whistling of the cane through the air and then a bright hot line of pain erupts across both his butt cheeks. He shouts into the bed.

"Red, yellow, or green?"

"Yellow," John gasps.

"Let's save that for another time, then. The paddle is next. It's flat and fairly thin so it'll smart rather than bruise. Ready?"

The question is, apparently, a rhetorical one because it lands on his arse while he's still opening his mouth to say _yes_ . This pain is different, more diffuse, and _smarts_ is an understatement. It bloody fucking hurts, but instead of a shout of pain, what comes out of John is more like a grunt that tapers off into a moan.

"Oh, you like that one," Gerald says, his voice dripping with gratification.

~*~

Thirty minutes later, John has a mind-numbing orgasm that leaves him shivering so hard, the bed rattles. Gerald gathers him up in his arms and John is suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. To his embarrassment, tears squeeze out of his eyes. He looks up at Gerald in betrayal. What devilry has he wrought?

"It's normal, John. Release of endorphins, oxytocin, all that stuff. Makes you feel warm and cuddly, emotionally open, all the stuff men are not supposed to be. The orgasm was good, though, yeah?"

The orgasm wasn't _good_ . The orgasm was like a supernova, a choir of angels, the earth moving beneath his feet. But all John can manage is a sort of moaning, grunting, _purr_ and Gerald chuckles smugly.

"You're a perfect sub," Gerald says, wrapping himself around John like the bloody great cuddler he is.

"How embarrassing," John mumbles.

"What, being a sub?" Gerald asks, his forehead crinkling in concern.

"It's very unmanly," John mutters and then finds himself tucking his face into Gerald's neck.

"Oh, darling," Gerald murmurs. "It's the manly ones who need to sub. I'm not asking you to sub 24/7. I have no intentions of hijacking your autonomy. My only desire in being your Dom is to help you learn about yourself. And also, the orgasms are spectacular."

John grins against the skin of Gerald's neck, Gerald's hair falling over his head like a curtain. And, just like that, John Watson becomes a sub.

~*~

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, as always, to Boonchandi and StarlingGirl30 for being my betas. The word "beta" just doesn't cover the extent of their involvement. We email back and forth about my stories and the fandom in general. They help me elucidate what it is I want to write in my stories. They let me know what makes them laugh and what makes them cry (so not sorry about that, by the way). In general, they inspire me to keep writing.
> 
> Two more thank yous:
> 
> tiaoconnell for our conversations about D/s dynamics in Sherlock and John's relationship, as well as D/s dynamics in general.
> 
> paminapickett for our discussion about John as a sub and why he needs a firm male figure to "take him in hand" so to speak. (She also corrects my inability to use commas).
> 
> You are all incredible sources of inspiration, ladies, and I've now been spoiled without hope of rehabilitation.


End file.
